


The Beginning to an End

by prinsessa_mouse



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Closure, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Parenthood, Past Child Abuse, Pickles the dad, Post Doomstar Requiem, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wakes & Funerals, basically everyone found love and family after Toki's rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinsessa_mouse/pseuds/prinsessa_mouse
Summary: After three years of therapy to try repairing their relationship, Pickles and Seth return to Tomahawk for their father's funeral.Will they get the closure and answers they want from their childhood home?
Relationships: Amber/Seth (Metalocalypse), Nathan Explosion/Pickles the Drummer, Skwisgaar Skwigelf/Toki Wartooth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

“He’s tryin’ ta say mum,” Pickles cackled cheerfully as he cooed at the baby propped up against his legs. The little hand holding his finger shook his hand excitedly.

“Um um um.”

Nathan’s expression softened as he watched his husband interacting with their son. “Can you say dada? Say dada for me, Axl. Dada,” he repeated. He knew he lost the bet when Axl started saying ‘um’ instead of ‘ah’. Nathan accepted early on that Pickles tended to be Axl’s favorite parent. He didn’t mind, his husband was his favorite person too.

“Sorry dood. Think he’s gonna say mum or mama first.”

“I hope he starts crawling soon,” Nathan remarked. He pulled out his phone to snap another photo of his little family. The fact that this child was fifty percent Pickles’ DNA made it all the better to him. They debated for a long time whether to adopt or find a surrogate. In their search for an answer, Nathan concluded having a piece of his husband would mean the world to him. While Pickles had reservations at the start about bringing another Donnelley into the world, he grew accustomed to the idea that he might have a stronger connection than his own parents had to him. That connection started when Pickles and Axl bonded together skin to skin right after he was born. Nathan watched them share the most sacred moment between parent and child, he marveled in the way his husband could soothe the cries as if he were the one who birthed him. He reflected on that memory daily as he watched his son grow up before his eyes.

Pickles leaned forward to press a kiss to Axl’s thick red hair. He grinned at his little carbon copy staring back at him with big green eyes. “The bottom shuffle is a way of crawlin’ ain’t it buddy,” he cooed. He completely ignored Nathan’s overbearing worries. The big guy spent way too much time with a copy of What to Expect in The First Year in his hand worrying that Axl didn’t do exactly what was expected at ten months old. Pickles didn’t care about such things it mattered more that his little man grew up happy and healthy with a loving family.

“Ever think about having another one?” Nathan asked curiously.

“Nate, I like it bein’ you and me plus baby makes three,” Pickles replied. His attention stayed on Axl who’s free hand now had one of his dreads. “I wanna spend all the time I can with this lil guy before we give ‘im a sibling.”

Axl let forth his best scream as he showed his dads’ the red dreadlock in his hand.

Pickles beamed.

“Hm…your mom is texting me. She wants you to call her,” Nathan grumbled when a text popped up on his screen ruining his photoshoot.

The happy expression on the redhead’s face faded. He ignored all her calls and texts that morning. When he saw Seth texted him, he planned to read it later. While they were in a better place with one another he still chose when he answered texts. Seth understood the healing process took time and to be closer they would need to continue to work towards a stronger brotherhood.

“Um um.”

“Rory, she says its really important. Maybe you should call her,” Nathan suggested reading the next text popping up on the screen.

Pickles’ stomach turned; the overwhelming wave of nausea hit him before he had time to comprehend that his mother stooped low enough to use Nathan as a contact. Out of sheer terror he shifted Axl to lay against his chest as he stood up to pace with him.

Nathan dropped his phone and shuffled over to the edge of the bed. “Pickles, you’re not calm. Give me Axl,” he said in his calmest voice. He trusted his husband with all his heart, but this protective stance came off threatening like a wild animal with it’s young. It didn’t help that Axl sensed Pickles distress and started to cry.

“Sh, its okay. I’m sorry sweetie it’s okay,” the redhead whispered as he bounced the baby. The crying didn’t cease only increased in volume.

The raven-haired man stood up, easily towering over Pickles and wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulders. “Let’s go lay Axl in his playpen and give him his soother,” he said. He guided his husband over towards the playpen at the foot of the bed. He praised Pickles for willingly laying him down without asking him again.

A familiar guitar riff echoed off Nathan’s phone. The name ‘Wicked Bitch of Wisconsin’ lit up the screen.

Axl continued crying, Pickles started pacing again, and Nathan stared down at his phone on the bed. In the span of five minutes, they were robbed of their happiness. The chaos around them calmed when the phone stopped ringing. There was just enough time for Pickles to collect himself enough to lean over the playpen to offer his child the soother when the phone rang again.

Nathan grabbed the phone of the bed and accepted the call from ‘Mom’ without a second glance. “What?” he snapped.

“Nathan Oscar Explosion don’t you dare raise your voice at me,” Rose warned angrily. Her frustration evident after trying to call Pickles with no luck. “You need to have Pickles call his mom. It’s important.”

“Mom he’s not going to do that. Just tell me what is going on or have Molly call me back. I’ll relay the message onto him,” Nathan promised. He hated getting in the middle of the Donnelley drama. That family drove him up a wall within seconds of hearing his in-laws speak. They hated the idea of a gay son who flaunted around in the public eye since he was sixteen years old. They despised the marriage even if they showed up to the wedding ceremony and they didn’t show an ounce of interest in Axl’s existence. Molly and Calvert were the last two people on this planet he wanted to be related too. Even Seth managed to get his shit together to become a brother to Pickles. Whatever horrible thing Molly Donnelley planned to throw at his husband, Nathan rejected to let him be first in the line of fire.

Pickles put out his hand weakly hinting he’d make the call.

Nathan’s green eyes leered at him somewhat menacingly. He narrowed his gaze until the redhead dropped his hand and went back to the playpen to watch over the now quiet child. “Mom, if you know tell me. I promise I’ll tell Pickles,” he whispered.

If he could see into the future, Nathan would have asked his husband to leave the room before he received the news. His face betrayed him, and Pickles sensed the severity of the news based off that expression. The look of a deer in headlights, the soft response of ‘holy shit’ instead of brutal, and the way green eyes went from leering and shock to sympathetic. Nathan watched as Pickles cautiously backed up until his back hit the wall, his knees buckled as he slowly slid to the floor to pull his knees up to his chest. His chin rested on his knees as his eyes began to well, he stared up at his husband expectantly. The bigger man gnawed at his lip a second longer than he should. He forgot to respond to his mom’s news and hung up without another word.

“Rory,” Nathan said softly. He took the next logical step by sitting down on the floor in front of his husband. He crossed his legs, dropping his hands into his lap. He tried not to pierce his hand with the sharp edges of the phone he gripped in his left hand.

Pickles’ lip trembled.

“Your dad died last night.”

A normal reaction to such news usually started with tears and grieving. Pickles burst into laughter. He laughed so hard he began to wheeze. The words bounced around in his head like a taunting little nursery rhyme.

Nathan frowned, “I’m not joking with you. He died last night of a heart attack. You need to go back to Tomahawk for the funeral.”

“I’m no fackin’ goin’ anywhere,” Pickles spat through his laughing spell.

“You can confront all your fears now that he’s gone,” the raven-haired man countered. His husband only spent nearly eight years in therapy trying to cope with his childhood traumas. This funeral might bring some closure to Pickles if he went.

Pickles’ laugher stopped abruptly as the tears hit him next. The type of uncontrollable sobs of a broken person trying to piece together with the remaining damaged bits of themself. Nathan was right, confronting this problem might help him finally close that dark chapter of his life.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” Nathan said. He tossed his phone aside to pull Pickles into his lap. He understood the pain and suffering that bothered his husband for nearly forty years. Not a day went by that the inevitable question didn’t pop into his head to ask why Pickles grew up in an abusive household while he got to grow up loved. If there were answers, Calvert took them to his grave before Seth and Pickles got the chance to finally question him. The brothers worked towards that day for three years with Twinkletits. It probably hurt that they might never get the answers they wanted.

The redhead wished he could numb himself with drugs and alcohol the way he did before he chose to put his marriage and child first. As much as it tempted him, Axl and Nathan meant the world to him. He rejected to be strung out or drunk the way he was when he was in his thirties. He didn’t want to drink away his problems anymore and turn out like his father. Pickles clung to Nathan as he sobbed uncontrollably. Nathan kept apologizing which bothered him because he felt a bit relieved by his father’s passing. “I feel so bad Nate,” Pickles choked out.

“You’re allowed to be sad or angry. I won’t judge you if you want to scream until you’re hoarse and cannot breathe. If you want to talk to me about it or maybe you want to talk to Seth that’s okay. Whatever you need you can ask,” Nathan said reassuringly.

Pickles sniffled, “I wished this upon ‘im.”

“No, Pickles you didn’t cause this. He had a heart attack. It was nothing you did.”

“Can yeh take Axl for a bit so I can be alone?” Pickles said clearing his throat.

Nathan respected the request. He helped his husband up onto the bed and offered to go get his phone that he left in their living room. He handed the phone over, stealing a kiss for himself and one for Axl before they left. He wanted to stay but he understood Pickles needed time to process this news. He wandered out to the shared living room to find Skwisgaar laying on the floor with his one-month-old daughter on his chest as he spoke to her in Swedish. Toki sat next to him filming her responding to the story. William was cuddled on the couch with his girlfriend as they watched a movie. He took a seat on the free couch to join his friends in their new lives. Axl snuggled against his chest causing him to relax instantly as his baby twisted his tiny fingers into his hair. Around him, everyone happily went about life unaware of the potential shit storm brewing.

Back in the bedroom, Pickles listened to the cryptic voicemails. He heard the desperation in his mother’s voice. Her usual distaste for him gone as she eventually turned to pleading for him to call back. Her sadness caused his stomach to turn again. If he picked up the phone sooner, he wouldn’t have to hear his mother cry.

Pickles opened his texts next to find Seth’s message. He tapped out multiple replies only to delete them. There were so many things he would like to say only to find his words jumbled and incomprehensible. With many failed attempts at a response, he chose to press the call button and put the phone to his ear. He exhaled a shaky breath while he waited.

“Did yeh hear da news?”

“I did,” Pickles mumbled.

Seth sighed in relief, “Thank fackin’ god.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> This will probably go to a dark place in sections which might switch this from Mature to Explicit but we'll come to that crossroad when it happens. The warning rating will be adjusted once the next chapters are out!  
> This is going to be Seth and Pickles pilgrimage to find the closure they need as they raise their own families. I will try to make sure we get to appreciate those family moments as this will probably end up more bittersweet. I just feel it fair to warn you of the place this is heading potentially.  
> Plus, how can I resist not letting everyone find that special person or start a family after Doomstar. *Cue Bob Ross with his Happy Little Tree(family) quote*  
> Happy Reading <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Tomahawk Wisconsin 1984**

_“Pickles, I swear if yeh don’t fackin’ open this window I’ll break ‘er,” Seth threatened. He slammed his hand on the frosted glass. His bare hand aching from the cold Wisconsin winter nipping at his exposed skin. He slammed his hand on the window again without a reaction from Pickles who laid in bed staring at the wall._

_With the hide-a-key rock empty that led Seth to conclude Calvert took the key to punish him._

_He considered throwing the fake rock through the window but rethought the plan. His father didn’t hesitate to throw a punch at him if he antagonized him. The other risk being he’d take it out on Pickles._

_“Dad took the key. Let meh in,” Seth pleaded._

_The racket outside his bedroom finally brought Pickles out of his daze. Rubbing at his face, he looked over to his window to see Seth’s irritated face staring back at him. He pulled the warm sheets off his body, lazily shuffling to the window where his idiotic brother sat in the snow on the roof begging like a hungry squirrel. Pickles unlocked and lifted the double window. “Hurry up yeh douchebag,” he snapped as he stood aside. He wrapped his arms around his torso to try warding off the cold._

_“My legs are cramped yeh idiot,” Seth shot back._

_“Seth for fack sake.”_

_The brunette finally wiggled his way through the small window bringing in snow in the process. It amazed him that his brother didn’t complain any further. Landing on the floor with a loud thud he finally felt some warmth returning to his cold limbs. “Yer grouchy. What crawled up yer ass?” he asked._

_“I didn’t sleep last night,” Pickles grumbled slamming the window shut._

_Seth cocked an eyebrow. A somber mood filled the room as he looked at his little brother. “Are yeh okay?” he asked._

_“Why’d yeh have to piss ‘im off?” the younger man replied walking back over to his bed. He sat down gingerly and crawled back under the pile of blankets. He wished he could disappear. He wouldn’t survive another two years in this hellhole._

_“I’m sorry, little dood. I really am,” Seth said sincerely. Knowing his drunken argument with Calvert resulted in his little brother getting punished caused his self-hatred to kick in. The voice in his head that berated him sounded like Calvert, it spat out ugly things no child should ever hear and even though it was only a voice…he believed it. He knew even if his father favored him over Pickles, those cruel words about being a failure still stung._

_Pickles yanked the homemade quilt over his head._

_Seth crawled towards his brother’s bed. Climbing through laundry, comic books, abandoned novels, cassettes and other debris that hit the floor. Pickles tended to be of the semi-organized variety. While he tossed clothes on the floor he didn’t live in squalor. Calvert took pride in trashing their rooms looking for their weed stashes or anything else he could find to use as evidence that his sons were fuck ups. The mess was a Calvert Calling Card. “Talk to meh bro,” Seth pushed. He picked up a broken cassette that probably got purposely stomped on to make Pickles confess where the drugs were._

_“Why don’t yeh fack off? Yeh can’t come in here thinkin’ sorry fixes me!”_

_“Cause if dad sees meh he’ll kick my ass for sneakin’ back in here,” Seth said. He studied the cassette then lightly cursing. It was one of his that he lent to his brother._

_Pickles heard the sadness in Seth’s voice. He hated being locked out of the house when their father decided to leave them out in the cold. His older brother called his name, but he ignored it. He closed his eyes, casting out the morning sun and repressed the nightmares of last night._

_“Pickles. Pickles.”_

“Pickles,” Nathan said softly.

The redhead hummed in response.

“You’re getting ash on my arm, Ror.”

“Ah I’m sorry,” Pickles mumbled. He came back to reality; he noticed the half-smoked cigarette in his hand. He laid across Nathan’s chest as he held him the same way he snuggled with Axl. On the bedside table sat the ashtray. He reached over to snub out the cigarette. If he was smoking they had sex. Why couldn’t he recall having sex? Why was he so numb?

Nathan tightened his embrace as Pickles went limp against him. He burned his nose into his husband’s dreads that smelled of vanilla and chai spice. “Do you want to cry it out or fuck around a bit more before you leave?” he offered as solutions. All night Pickles tossed and turned which kept him up. They tried talking about the dreams he had only for him to shut down. Somehow, they ended up kissing which led to sex.

“Not really in the mood,” Pickles said closing his eyes.

“Want me to get Axl so you guys can have your morning cuddles?”

The redhead shook his head no.

Nathan tried not to let on how disappointed he was over the lack of communication between them. As a man of few words most of his life, the singer disliked when Pickles a natural chatter box didn’t have something to say. He also never rejected a chance to be with their baby. Nathan held him protectively to his chest. He appreciated Pickles lightly touching his arm as if to connect to him somehow. “You know that I love you right?” he asked next.

“Yah of course. I love yeh too,” Pickles replied. “I’m just feelin’ numb.”

“I can get Skwisgaar to watch the baby then I can come with you,” Nathan suggested.

Pickles’ body stiffened. “Nah dood, yeh need to take care of our kid,” he scowled.

“He’s always been good with him and he’s great with Sunniva.”

“I said no! I don’t want my child without one of his parents!” the redhead snapped. He tried his best to escape Nathan’s embrace with no success. He flailed unhappily only to give up. Like a giant snake, the more he fought the tighter his husband held him. It bothered him enough that he had to leave Axl for a few days, Nathan accompanying him too would make him a basket case.

The singer loosened his grip a bit when he heard Pickles panting. “You’re getting to worked up over a suggestion. Just trying to help,” Nathan shot back defensively. He regretted the anger he displayed. Pickles was grieving and not coping with change very well. His mood swings came and went, he went from angry to crying uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry, Nate. Goin’ home makes me uneasy.”

**Tomahawk Wisconsin 1984**

_“Ma is goin’ to flip,” Pickles remarked passing the joint to Seth._

_The brunette winced as he leaned over the arm of the ratty couch to grab the joint. They were hiding out in the room above the garage listening to music and smoking. He dragged Pickles up there with the promise of weed to get him out of the house. Calvert was on the warpath and Molly gladly downed either Prozac or Valium to block out their existence. Seth walked into the house to find his father drunk; his rage evident as he snuck past the study. He heard Calvert spitting venomous comments about Pickles to Molly who didn’t seem bothered by the insults about their youngest child. Seth inwardly groaned, another night spent being a parent by providing a meal and some type of normalcy. He never asked to be thrown into this role, he fought a lot with his little brother because of his stubbornness. Tacos, weed, and Judas Priest seemed like a good enough offer to Pickles. Seth kept the music low enough to avoid drawing attention to them. He straightened up on the couch and took a long drag off the joint._

_Pickles shifted in the beanbag chair to avoid the cramping in his lower back. The winter air seeped into the drafty room causing him to shiver. He really hated days like this when Seth asked him up to the garage. His older brother thought he was protecting him, but he wasn’t stupid, he knew his parents were in a bad mood. He liked to think he could handle the screaming or Calvert going after him when he mouthed off. He pretended the homophobic slurs tossed at him didn’t hurt. Pickles learned from everyone around him that booze or drugs numbed the pain. Seth tried to get the attention off him to cut him a break which he appreciated. Tonight, Calvert would visit him to remind him what a mistake he was._

_“Here,” Seth coughed. He passed the joint back to his little brother. The silence got awkward between them. Pickles got that vacant look he got when he started to self destruct. Time to distract him before he started crying or throwing fists._

_“Dad said somethin’ bout me didn’t he.”_

_Seth cursed his brother’s perceptive nature. For a such a little drunken burnout, Pickles had a talent for reading a room. He picked up on every vibe a person let off. If only that helped them at home when Molly went to bed and Calvert decided to terrorize one of them. “Chair against the door kinda night, lil bro,” he warned._

_“Great,” sighed the fifteen-year-old._

_“Yeh can tag along with me tonight if yer quiet.”_

_Pickles exhaled a cloud of smoke and smirked. “Gotta finish Catcher N The Rye. Where yeh goin’?” he asked curiously._

_“Hookin’ up with Melissa. Yeh stay outta my way she won’t care,” Seth added._

_“Sure she’ll love that yer-”_

_“RORY GET THE FUCK DOWN HERE!”_

_Seth grabbed the joint from Pickles’ hand and snubbed it out on the coffee table. He looked around the room for a place to stash the joint for later._

_Down on the floor, Pickles pulled his knees to his chest and bit his lip hard. Was he trembling from the cold or fear? His mind raced trying to find an explanation. What did he do lately to deserve being yelled at?_

_“It’s gonna be okay. He’ll yell at yeh and that’ll be it. Chair against my door type a night,” he said trying to come off lighthearted. He tucked the joint behind a fake plant that sat on the windowsill._

_“Don’t matter dood. Still comes to my room after yers,” Pickles whispered._

_Seth’s expression dropped. He leaned over the couch arm again to give Pickles’ shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Stay here,” he said. He got up before Calvert called again. When his little brother tried to stumble to his feet he roughly shoved him back into the beanbag chair. He cast a threatening glance at Pickles to emphasise his point._

_What followed was Seth being kicked out of the house for the night and the wrath of Calvert. Pickles cried himself to sleep until he heard a knocking on his bedroom window. Seth sat with him as he fell asleep. He vowed nothing would happen to the redhead as he tried to fix the torn-up copy of The Catcher In The Rye._

“Don’t yeh go givin’ me those puppy dog eyes,” Pickles teased. He nuzzled his nose against Axl’s button nose. The baby squealed happily over the affection and tried to plant a slobbery kiss to his dad’s face.

Nathan snuck off to get the baby when Pickles melted down for the fourth time that morning. Against all his wishes the baby got left with him while his husband showered. Axl busied himself with pulling his soother out of his mouth to show Pickles. He shuffled over to grab at his dad’s hair, touch his damp face, and vocalize all his feelings along with the redhead. All his tactics worked to get Pickles focused on the positive light in his life.

“Um,” Axl babbled.

“Me mum?”

The baby gleefully screeched his approval.

Pickles grinned. “I don’t care what yeh call me long as yeh know I love yeh. Yer the greatest thing I ever created,” he said. He gently smoothed out Axl’s bedhead hair as he admired him. “Of all the bands and songs nothin’ compares to you.”

“Umumumum,” come the response.

“I’m gonna miss yeh so much,” Pickles groaned. He wrapped his arms around Axl who seemed content to cuddle. Other mornings he flailed around wanting to play and headbutt his dads by accident. Pickles’ meltdowns were more anxiety based about leaving home. Aside from the few times Skwisgaar babysat for him so he could go on a date night with Nathan, he stayed home with the baby. Curiosity got the better of him when he started to wonder if Seth felt that way about Jack.

Nathan stealthy caught the interaction on video. His husband started smothering Axl in kisses which led to tickling and blowing raspberries on his tummy. The baby screaming joyously because of Pickles now making silly animal sounds for him. Nathan chuckled as the great Rory T. Explosion once Donnelley, know as Pickles, former singer and lead guitarist of Snakes N Barrels, legendary drummer for Dethklok made a rather impressive pig snort. Axl’s tiny hands grabbed hold of the redhead’s face as he calmed down long enough to stare at him. They did that a lot, little staring contests as if they were telepathically communicating with each other. Silently sharing all the worldly secrets. Axl understanding every broken part of Pickles life and filling in the cracks. They got each other on a level Nathan didn’t even reach with either of them. His mom explained it as form of showing love between a mother and child, when he was a baby he looked so deep into her soul she knew she’d love him forever. Nathan witnessed that interaction many times and it still came off magical. He wished he experienced it but seeing how happy it made Pickles, he knew the right person got to be part of that moment.

“Take care of dada fer me,” Pickles whispered.

Axl’s fingers touched his dad’s eyebrow piercings.

“Gentle,” Pickles warned. They were working on that skill. Everyone’s long hair became fair game when it came to the babies. Skwisgaar learned fast to keep his hair up. Pickles spent a lot of time teaching his child not to yank any of his piercings out of his face.

“Seth will be here in about two hours,” Nathan mumbled.

Pickles frowned, “That means I gotta leave yeh soon Axl.”

“You need to pack.”

“I need family time. Yer the one insistin’ I should tell yeh if I need somethin’ and what I need is family time with my boys,” the redhead declared.

Nathan nodded even if he decided to pack Pickles’ weekend bag and hold up suit options from the closet. He got the Donnelley smirk thrown at him by both his loves when he suggested the gray suit. It didn’t take long for him to pack everything Pickles would need for four days. He tucked the black suit with black dress shirt and burgundy tie into the garment bag. He made sure Pickles listened to him when he pointed out which pockets held the chargers for his phone and laptop and where to find his inhaler in his toiletry bag.

Pickles stared at him unamused as if wasting ten minutes packing bothered him.

“Hope your mom likes the jeans I packed you,” Nathan teased.

“Seriously Nate’n?”

The singer laid down on his side of the bed and gently rubbed Axl’s back. He chose to ignore Pickles’ wrinkled nose at the jeans comment.

“Ma is gonna flip if she sees me wearin’ tight jeans again like some kinda,” Pickles trailed off. His expression of disgust morphed into something more distressing.

“A happily married man?”

Pickles smirked at that. Nathan, the master of dark brutal lyrics was a true romantic at heart. The biggest softy around when it came to him.

“An amazing dad?”

“Okey big guy yeh made yer point,” Pickles snickered. “I just yeh know…don’t wanna disrespect ‘im? He hated what I am and me waltzin’ round all effeminate would be an insult to ‘im.”

Nathan’s hand left Axl’s back to lovingly pet Pickles’ dreadlocks. He saw the shame in his partner’s eyes. He hated it; he didn’t like how even as an openly gay person Pickles didn’t have peace. He still needed his parents to accept him. This desperate attempt to appease his parents seemed to be a losing battle. Nathan reminded him constantly that his parents and their friends accepted him. What the Donnelley’s thought didn’t matter. “I like that you’re effeminate,” Nathan countered.

“Well, he didn’t.”

**Tomahawk Wisconsin 1984**

_“Why is it your goal to embarrass me?” Calvert slurred as he loomed over his son’s bed._

_Pickles flinched awake from the smell of whiskey breathe on his face. His eyes blinked open to catch a glimpse of his father’s face inches from his._

_“I asked you a question you little fag.”_

_The word didn’t bother him when the kids at school spat it at him but when his father slurred it his skin crawled. He feared the word coming from his father’s mouth because whatever followed next might be worse than an insult._

_“Get up,” Calvert demanded._

_Pickles didn’t move. He stayed frozen in terror over the two o’clock in the morning wake up. He thought he could be the tough guy, stare his father down the way Seth did with his menacing scowl. He tried to come off intimidating only for his father to laugh in his face._

_Calvert continued to laugh as he walked around the bedroom looking at his son’s possessions. A new set of posters were taped to the wall depicting musicians dressed in tight clothes. The books were all placed back on the bookshelf along with the cassettes. Beside the somewhat messy desk sat his son’s acoustic guitar. The one thing his son valued most in the world, the only thing that kept him out of trouble. “Get up Rory,” he slurred._

_“Dad don’t,” Pickles pleaded. He saw the way his father touched the headstock of his guitar. He sensed what might come next if he didn’t start listening._

_“Then play your daddy a song,” Calvert said grabbing the guitar and handing it to his younger son._

_Pickles trembled as he accepted the guitar. He regretted not sticking the chair under the doorknob before he laid down to read. He dozed off leaving himself vulnerable to his dad’s drunken prowess. He deserved this for not listening to Seth’s advice. Why didn’t he stay away from the Steven’s boy? Maybe his father would hate him less if he weren’t caught kissing another boy in the room above the garage. If he took the time to block the door, he would be asleep instead of fearing his father’s presence._

_Calvert leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “None of that nancy boy shit of yours either,” he warned._

_The redhead started to pick away at a song he knew all to well. He didn’t know if he was supposed to sing or not. He continued when his father nodded his approval. “I listened to the wind to the wind of my soul. Where I’ll end up well I think God only really knows,” Pickles mumbled out._

_“Keep going.”_

_Pickles complied. He wanted to disappear into the shadows of his room. He didn’t want to sit here at two o’clock in the morning playing guitar for his father. He only cooperated to save himself the psychological torture of cleaning up his trashed room._

_Calvert grumbled, “Sing like an angel.”_

_“I listen to my words but they fall far below. I let my music take me where my heart wants to go,” the redhead continued as he pushed the tempo to get the song over with. As he picked away the repetitive riffs he didn’t expect his father to reach out and clasp his hand on top of his on the guitar neck. Pickles quickly jerked his hand away as if he touched a hot surface._

_“Give me the guitar,” his father instructed._

_Pickles shook his head defiantly. Why did he freak out and make a scene? Why couldn’t he keep playing as if nothing were materializing?_

_The guitar was snatched from his grasp easily. He watched as his father’s hands gripped the neck of the guitar. Pickles never forgot the hollow twanging sound his guitar made when it hit the hardwood floor. It cried out in different tones as the bottom seam of the guitar split and shattered a small portion of the top. The continual blows against the floor sent splintering shards of wood flying around the room. One fatal blow against the desk cracked the thick frame leaving nothing more than a shattered shell of a once gorgeous guitar. The bridge gave way with a great pop followed by the neck disconnecting from the body when it finally broke under all the pressure. The last sound the guitar made was the clinking sound of the metal machine heads denting the floor when the neck was dropped._

_Tears poured from Pickles’ eyes as he took in the scene of his beloved guitar laying in pieces all around his room. He didn’t even notice a piece of wood had lodged itself into his hair. He didn’t understand what he did to deserve this._

_“I told you none of that nancy boy shit. Stop crying and be a man,” Calvert spat._

_Pickles glowered at his father._

_“You’ll never survive in the real-world Rory if you don’t man up.”_

_“Cause yer a good example of a man,” Pickles shot back._

_It amazed him how his mother slept through everything. She didn’t even hear him screaming at the top of his lungs when his father yanked him from his bed. The force Calvert grabbed his arm dislocated his elbow and left him bawling in pain until Seth snuck back in._

_Pickles manned up when Seth popped his elbow back into its rightful place._

“Hey,” Nathan said lightly poking Pickles’ cheek.

The redhead blinked excessively. His eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings.

“Lost you there for a second. What’s on your mind?”

“I keep thinkin’ about all the horrible things he did to me. Think he did em cuz I was a nancy boy,” Pickles mumbled. He didn’t notice that Axl drifted off next to him with one of his fingers in his grasp.

Nathan furrowed his brow, “He called you that?”

“Think its disrespectful fer me to spit on ‘is grave?” Pickles whispered. His happy mood slipped into a form of sad rage. Somewhere in his childhood room was a box with the pieces of his first guitar. Molly hastily went to the music store for another one and tried to apologize by handing it to him. They never addressed it. His father got to keep terrorizing them while she slept peacefully. When he confronted her, she reminded him he was a troublemaker by listing off his lowest points of adolescent deviance. He learned quickly that Molly and Calvert worked in tandem.

“I’d shit on his grave for you if that made everything better.”

Pickles’ mood swing turned into a laughing spell. “Yeh seriously would shit on ‘is grave to make me feel better?” he smirked.

“Shoot his corpse into the sun. Feed his body to Skwisgaar’s wolves. Hm, think I might have an idea for a song now,” Nathan grunted. He continued to fuss over his husband’s dreads. He worried about him going home. He should’ve fought harder to go to Wisconsin with him. Four days could undo eight years of therapy. Pickles’ stress levels were already piqued, Molly’s demanding nature might ruin him.

“Better naht say that to loud Nate. Charlie will hear yeh then I’ll be returnin’ home expected to write a new album.”

Nathan fought his feelings to put a smile on his face for his husband’s sake. “Then how about I write you a song?” he offered. A project to keep busy might take his mind off constantly worrying about Pickles’ wellbeing.

“Brutalist metal yeh have within yer soul,” Pickles said in his best mock Nathan growl.

Axl stirred from his short nap whimpering grumpily over being woke up.

“Awh sorry buddy,” Pickles said. He started to hum The Wind by Cat Stevens until the baby got lulled back to sleep.

“He loves that song,” Nathan remarked. He remembered living with Pickles in their first rundown apartment. His boyfriend sat with an acoustic guitar hugged close to his body as he played that song. His voice so ethereal and calming as he sang his heart out. Nathan’s whole metal persona didn’t exist when he listened to Pickles play guitar. There was nothing comparable to being permitted to watch him lose himself in the music. Nathan got a front row seat to know Pickles intimately through his musical choices. Part of falling in love with him was watching him be so content performing in their living room.

Pickles stopped humming momentarily to add, “First song I ever learned on guitar.”

“Think I’m going to take you being gone worse than Axl,” Nathan admitted.

“Think ‘m gonna be the one bein’ a diva over you two,” Pickles said softly. He resumed his humming to make sure Axl stayed sleeping.

Nathan tried to ignore that he only had an hour left with his family. He listened to Pickles hum while he rubbed his bare arm. He absentmindedly joined into the humming as they both watched Axl wiggle closer to the redhead who cradled him against his bare chest. “You’re the best dad,” Nathan said proudly.

“So are you, big guy.”

Pickles never got sick of hearing Nathan reassure him that he was dad material. He couldn’t help feeling like he finally manned up when he became a dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make sure there was fluff sprinkled in here between the flashbacks of fifteen year old Pickles' life.  
> The song was the first song I ever learned on guitar and that guitar incident is sadly from my life experience!  
> Other than that we are heading towards the Seth and Pickles being reunited.  
> Happy reading<3


	3. Chapter 3

Seth’s wet shoes squeaked against the marble floors.

He looked down at the puddle of melting snow around his feet as the pit in his stomach grew. He still didn’t feel welcome in Mordhaus even after three years of establishing a trusting relationship with Pickles and Nathan. He kicked himself mentally that he didn’t bring Amber and Jack along. At least they would calm his nerves. His son’s mindless chatter about Adventure Time entertained him while the tapping of Amber’s fingers on her phone or laptop became soothing when he should’ve found it irritating.

He saw Skwisgaar playing guitar in the living room while Toki paced the floor with a fussy infant. Murderface and a blonde woman played a two-player arcade game, they each playfully tried to screw the other up by bumping lightly into each other.

Seth pulled back the sleeve of his jacket to check the time on his watch. He ran a hand through his styled hair without much care how it looked afterwards. He always thought when this day came he’d attempt a cartwheel or dance around obnoxiously to celebrate. Somewhere in his broken childhood he couldn’t bring himself to act out his fantasy, the elation turned to guilt as he questions if he loved Calvert or not. That gut wrenching guilt caused him to dry heave into the toilet as Amber rubbed his back. She asked him if he wanted to talk and respected that he declined her offer.

It all came back to not protecting Pickles. He regretted being arrested at nineteen. That left his little brother to fend for himself. His brother ran away a month after turning sixteen. Seth told Pickles to pawn his possession if that helped him escape. He tried not to hold a grudge for the stuff his brother pawned, he reminded himself that even as an adult he should’ve moved them out of state. All the hypothetical scenarios played on repeat in his head. He should’ve done something, talked to a teacher, raised Pickles himself, or forced their mother to acknowledge what really happened in their home.

His addictions and need for a home caused him to turn against Pickles. He sided with his parents to keep a roof over his head. Just another point on his list of failures.

“Hey dildolicker,” Nathan called.

Seth’s head shot up and his notable smirk plastered onto his face. “Hey sasquatch,” he replied. He hid his disappointment that Pickles didn’t follow behind his brother-in-law.

“Sorry about your dad,” the bigger man said stopping in front of Seth. He clapped his hand down onto his brother-in-law’s shoulder because he still couldn’t bring himself to hug the other man.

“Thanks man. Pickles comin’ down?”

Nathan took a step back, dropping his husband’s luggage to the floor. “Changing a diaper,” he mumbled.

“How’s my nephew?” Seth asked changing the subject. He received a lot of photos of the baby when Pickles felt like sharing. His little brother’s pride bled through the texts when he talked about fatherhood. Seth understood the overwhelming unexplainable love he experienced when he held Jack. He worked hard to give his son a stable family life so there was no repeat of his upbringing.

“Good sleeping through the night again,” Nathan replied.

Seth chuckled fondly, “Jack used ta do that too. Stay up with ‘im all night cuz he was teethin’.”

“Claps ‘is hands, tryin’ to talk, crawlin’, cut two teeth,” Pickles bragged. He walked down the hall at a brisk pace to catch up. He adjusted Axl on his hip and stood next to Nathan.

“Can I hold ‘im?” Seth asked.

Pickles nodded, handing the baby over to his brother and watching his older brother hold him up in front of his face.

Seth bounced the baby then propped him on his hip. “Axl looks like Rory when he was lil,” he remarked. His three-year-old memories weren’t the clearest, but he remembered how he snuck into his brother’s room to look at him in his crib. He liked to help his mother take care of the baby and the family photo album was jampacked with pictures of them as little kids.

“Where’s Jack and Amber?” Pickles questioned. His tone came off disappointed that his sister-in-law didn’t tag along. He really liked her. Her no bullshit attitude warded off their mother and he respected her for standing up to Molly. She stood up to Seth too. Anyone who pointed out when his brother acted like a douchebag was on his list of favorite people.

“Ah guess I can tell yeh,” Seth mumbled. “Yer gonna be uncles again in July.”

Nathan admittedly enjoyed being an uncle when they got together for family Christmas. Skwisgaar also joined in to play with Jack as if the kid needed a trio of people entertaining him.

“Didn’t tell ma yet huh?” Pickles smirked knowingly.

“Hell no! Amber’d kill me!”

Axl screamed loudly to remind everyone he existed.

Seth bounced him lightly and snickered, “Voice like yer dad’s. Maybe yeh’ll be a singer lil guy.”

“He’s droolin’,” Pickles warned. He stepped forward using the sleeve of his sweater to wipe his son’s damp chin. Seth decided to hand him back which pleased Pickles who went into parent mode.

“You guys better get going before Molly starts calling,” Nathan hinted. He already fielded a rather annoying text from her about the arrival time of her sons’ flight. She was bound to start up the phone tree, dragging everyone else and their mothers into the mix.

Seth bent down, picking up Pickles’ luggage and hurried back toward the front door. He gave his brother some privacy to be all lovey dovey. “Meet yeh on the plane, dickhead!” he called over his shoulder.

“I can still come with you,” Nathan said wrapping his arm around his husband’s shoulders.

Pickles sighed loudly, “Think I needa do this alone big guy.”

“You can call, FaceTime, wake me up at any hour okay?”

“I know. Yeh take good care of ‘im yeh hear me?” Pickles said pressing a kiss to Axl’s forehead. He hugged him tight to his chest momentarily before handing him over to Nathan. He got teary; he dropped his head to rest against his husband’s belly as he bit back a sob. His lanky arms tried their best to engulf Nathan’s middle as he hugged him.

Nathan rubbed Pickles back. “I will,” he responded.

“Gawd I love yeh guys,” Pickles sniffled.

“Love you too,” the singer replied.

Pickles chose to break the hug first, snagging a good kiss to tide him over for the next for days and one final snuggle with Axl before he braved the cold grips of winter.

He really wished he slipped his jacket on before walking out into the cold wind. No doubt Wisconsin would leave a different sort of chill in his bones when he stepped foot into his childhood home. Molly’s potential attitude towards him might be just as bitter.

On the plane, Seth already stretched out comfortably in his seat with his laptop. He planned to answer a few emails regarding Dethklok’s upcoming concert in Australia and catch up on some much-needed sleep. Pickles seemed content with his phone in his hand, a pair of white cord earbuds poked into his pierced ears as he scrolled through his music looking for something to listen too. Seth didn’t mean to stare; he watched his kid brother finally pick an album and lounge back in search of the eBook he slowly read when he got free time. Somethings never changed. Pickles still read books like the educated man he was, and Seth still worked hard as if he were still scheming and scamming.

Pickles settled on Water Horsey Blues to bring himself back to a safer time when he escaped Calvert and Wisconsin. He focused on Tony’s bass, ignoring himself singing, his brain elevated Sammy’s drum patterns, and he tried not to cringe when he heard Bullets playing.

**Los Angeles, California 1985**

_“Hey kid wait up.”_

_By instinct, Pickles ran. He yanked the collar of his leather jacket up as he hurried through the club in search of an exit. He managed to draw a bit of unwanted attention from an older man in the crowd as he watched this band perform. He made it clear he wasn’t interested only to see the man hit the floor and the bass player of the opening band standing over the man. Pickles panicked, he needed away from this situation before he owed this man something in return._

_He heard the bass player calling after him as he weaved through the halls, coming to a dead. He whipped around; fists ready to deliver a punch if this guy tried to touch him._

_“Woah, not looking for a fight kid,” Tony rambled holding his hands up defensively._

_“Why yeh chasin’ me then?”_

_Tony considered how this looked from the redhead’s perspective. He did chase after him and manage to corner him essentially. “Kid you’re shaking when’s the last time you ate?” he asked._

_“Yer not gonna trick me that easily douchebag,” Pickles snapped back. Unfortunately, his stomach betrayed him by rumbling loudly over the thought of food. He hardly had enough to sustain himself and pay the rent._

_“Your accent…mid-west?” Tony said. He lowered his hands when the young man’s rigid body language relaxed slightly._

_Pickles nodded._

_The black-haired man took that as a hint to keep the conversation going. “I take it you’re running from something back home. This just isn’t the city to come to as a teenager. Might meet the wrong type of person and get into some trouble you can’t get out of,” he trailed off. He didn’t want to outright say that the redhead risked being found by a pimp if he wasn’t careful._

_“Why yeh even care?”_

_“Because I’m not an asshole kid. I don’t want to see you selling yourself on a street corner,” Tony said._

_Pickles dropped his fists, his defiant expression dropped when he heard the other man’s words. His stomach chose to rumble loudly, hungry gripping so tight at him stomach to the point his throat seized up due to the reflex of his stomach._

_Tony sighed. “I don’t want anything from you. Saw you at our shows a few times and I’m a bit of a bleeding heart. My mama is Italian so food to me is life and you look like you’re damn near starved.”_

_“Nothin’ is free dood,” Pickles mumbled._

_“I know a diner just down the street that makes amazing food. My bandmates and I hit it up for pie after every gig. Let me buy you something to eat.”_

_Pickles didn’t trust him even if he liked his band. The only problem with the band was the singer, he sang as if he swallowed a watermelon seed and it remained stuck in his throat irritating his vocal cords. The bass player was the guy who beat up a pervert on the dance floor. He owed him already for defending him. Groaning in defeat, Pickles agreed._

_“My name is Antonio but everyone calls me Tony,” the older man said extending his hand._

_“Pickles.”_

_Tony raised an eyebrow curiously, “Pickles the what?”_

_“The mistake, fuck up, loser,” Pickles murmured as he accepted the handshake._

_“If you ran then you’re not the fuck up,” Tony suggested._

_Somehow that sounded better._

_Unbeknown to Pickles at the diner the chatty blonde drummer basically took over interrogating him until Tony kicked the man named Sammy out of the booth._

_“I’m really sorry. Sammy is just a big giant teddy bear and he always wants to know everybody. Hope he didn’t freak you out,” Tony apologized. He snuck off to use the bathroom and within the span of five minutes Sammy decided to leave his booth to get to know Pickles._

_Pickles played with the straw in his glass. He stirred the ice around to avoid eye contact. “Its fine. Buyin’ me food. I gotta be polite to the host and his guests,” he muttered._

_“I don’t want to pry but are you running from some kind of broken home?” he asked._

_“Who are yeh? The police?” Pickles replied defensively._

_Tony frowned at that, “No, believe it or not I’m a university drop out who studied social work and I can see something is wrong. You’re far from home, I see you at a lot of my gigs, you’re starving so your money goes into probably renting some dumpy apartment. I’ll bet you are hoping to find the right band to audition for am I right?”_

_“I’m lookin’ at yer band,” Pickles said bluntly. He blew a stray piece of his long red hair from his face and started at Tony with determination._

_“What makes you think its my band?”_

_Pickles smirked, “Because I see yeh call the shots and get that lousy singer on stage after draggin’ him from the bar.”_

_“You’re a bit of a smartass,” Tony chuckled._

_The redhead chose to sip at his Coke seductively. His thumb and index finger holding the straw as he took tiny sips. His green eyes burrowing into Tony’s grey eyes. “Yeh wanna make it right? Axl Rose is elevatin’ himself by bein’ talented n sexy. Yer singer is the problem dood. He ain’t sexy, he can’t sing, and he looks like he hates the songs,” he concluded stirring the ice around his glass again._

_“People underestimate how smart you are.”_

_“Dood, my dad woulda slapped me by now,” Pickles tried to joke. It sadly fell flat, translating into a moment of weakness._

_Tony noticed how the mentions of Pickles’ dad caused his hands to shake. “Kid, I’ll make you a deal. Eat all your food, let me make sure you get home safe, I’ll put together a band practice to see what you’re made of,” he offered._

_“I,” Pickles stammered. “Really dood? I mean I didn’t think yeh would wow.”_

_“Really. Who knows you might be the next one on MTV making everyone lust after you,” Tony smiled._

Seth leaned over, poking Pickles’ leg to get his attention.

“What?” Pickles mumbled tiredly yanking his headphone from his ears. His first album Accolades for Dysfunction played on repeat lulling him into a rather calm state. He zoned out remembering how amazing his life seemed when he met Tony and the rest of the band. How they became his family when he had no one else.

“Sorry I jest,” Seth trailed off.

Pickles sensed the tension between them. “Yeh wanna talk er somethin’?” he filled in the blank.

“We don’t gotta I jest can’t sleep. Keep havin’ dreams I don’t wanna remember,” Seth swallowed thickly. He looked to his little brother for support, he searched his green eyes to find understanding there.

“Been havin’ em too dood. Can’t shake em when I sleep, haunt me during the day…know the worst are gonna hit me when we get home,” Pickles’ rambled. His breathing picked up a bit at the thought of stepping foot inside that house, sleep there again after thirty-one years.

Seth saw the panic and reached across the aisle to offer his hand. He tried his best not to crush Pickles tiny hand when he grabbed hold of it. He held his little brother’s hand the way he held Amber’s, his thumb rubbing the top of his hand to reassuring him he was there. “We’ll stay in the same room if yeh want,” he said softly.

“Yeh promise me yeh won’t disappear?”

“I swear Rory.”

**Tomahawk Wisconsin 1985**

_Seth awoke to his mattress dipping._

_He planned to send his elbow back into the assailant’s chest. He waited for the right moment to attack when he recognized the sniffling sound coming from the unwanted guest. “Rory?” he mumbled._

_“I’m sorry Seth. I just ‘m not-I don’t wanna stay in my room.”_

_“Yeh can stay,” Seth said rolling over to see his little brother’s outline in the dark. “Yeh block the door?” he inquired further._

_Pickles settled down on the twin bed and swallowed down the wave of nausea trying to creep up his throat. “Yah I did,” he whispered._

_“What happened?”_

_“Don’t dude,” Pickles warned when his brother reached out for him. He understood it was to show comfort but it came off threatening._

_Seth withdrew his hand that reached out instinctually to pull his brother into a protective embrace. He understood, knew how it felt to want support emotionally without the physical side of it. He knew better than anyone how disgusting being touched could be, his skin always itched severely when someone touched him, and Pickles seemed to share that feeling. He didn’t need to ask to know what happened or almost happened. They lived constantly on the edge of Calvert’s drunken moods._

_Pickles cried. He didn’t hold back as he snuggled up against his brother on his own._

_“I’m sorry,” Seth apologized._

_“Yeh didn’t nothin’ wrong,” Pickles choked out._

_Seth risked wrapping his arm around his little brother, crushing him to his chest in such a possessive way he feared his actions. “Go to sleep,” he commanded. His tired brain worked through all the possible scenarios. He needed to do something._

_The next morning Pickles awake to an empty bed and a pang of guilt because he ran to his brother._

_Little did he know, the guilt would return later that night when his brother was dragged from their house screaming a slur of hateful words at their father as two police officers tossed him into the back of a cop car._

“Why’d yeh do it?” Pickles asked.

Seth raised his perfectly groomed eyebrow, “Do what?”

“Get arrested. Dad said yeh sold drugs to a nark,” the redhead replied.

“I sold drugs to a nark once but I got arrested fer attackin’ dad.”

Pickles stared back at Seth with his mouth agape. All these years he wanted to know why his brother abandoned him and the answer shocked him.

“I seen how he tried to touch yeh that afternoon and I jist saw red. He had no right touchin’ yeh like some kinda…doesn’t matter. I don’t regret it,” Seth said bluntly.

“Yeh knew?”

Seth stared back, his expression softening into a sad mirror of his brother’s expression. “Yah because he did the same things to me. Why do yeh think I burned down the garage?” he mumbled.

“I always thought I imagined it,” Pickles said softly. He admired the hand holding his, the very hand he held when he walked to school the first day, the hand that pulled him back up the first time he fell off his skateboard, the hand that slapped him for being an annoying little brat of a brother, and the hand that never once touched him inappropriately. “Always thought maybe I turned out gay because of yeh know.”

“He didn’t make yeh gay. Yer gay because that is how yeh were born and there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. He didn’t like yeh being gay, he didn’t like me being straight. He didn’t like either of us period unless he was beating the shit outta us and hurting us,” Seth corrected. His tone firm though his face still looked sympathetic.

Pickles nervously tapped the barbell of his tongue piercing against his teeth in irritating little clicks as he chose his next words carefully. “Tony knew ‘bout the abuse. I told ‘im when I started stayin’ with ‘im. Fer the longest time I couldn’t stand him touchin’ me even though I loved ‘im. Nate was the first one I didn’t down a bunch of booze or take drugs to tolerate ‘im bein’ with me,” he admitted ruefully.

“I’m sure Tony understood and never held that against yeh.”

“Broke his heart because I never fully trusted ‘im,” Pickles sighed. “I only truly loved ‘im when I was numb then I’d wake up scared.”

Seth squeezed his brother’s hand lightly. “And yeh got through it. Yeh found someone who yeh trust and loves yeh no matter what happened in yer past. Yeh turned out amazin’. I don’t think yeh ever got to hear it from any of us. I’m proud of yeh and the man yeh became,” he smiled. He meant it from the bottom of his heart, the sincerest of statements that he found pride in his little brother’s accomplishments.

“Thanks.”

**Los Angeles, California 1985**

_Tony awoke to an ear-piercing scream._

_Forgetting himself he rolled over a bit to fast and fell off the catch landing onto the thin carpet with a thud. He hardly cared that he just missed hitting his head on the coffee table. The screaming turned into sobs as he got to his feet and ran to the bedroom where the door stayed closed._

_He’d insisted that Pickles sleep in the bedroom while he took the couch._

_Tony opened the door and peeked in._

_On the bed he saw Pickles tossing and turning, fighting off his bedsheets as he tried to fight his dream. On the floor lay a tattered copy of a Stephen King novel he must have dozed off reading. The bedside lamp still emulating the room in a golden glow._

_He knew better than to wake someone having a night terror though it didn’t stop him from crossing the room hastily and sitting down on the bed where he lightly shook the little redhead. The way he carried on he feared the neighbors might call the cops or the landlord._

_“Rory, wake up.”_

_Pickles stopped his thrashing, his sobs turning into lowly whimpers, a trail of tears rolled down his cheeks even though his green eyes were clasped shut._

_“It’s okay you’re okay. You’re safe here with me,” Tony said softly. His hand rubbing Pickles’ bare arm to calm him down when he didn’t wake from the light shaking._

_A pair of familiar green eyes shot open. The small body abruptly sat up in bed and shrunk away from the hand on his arm._

_“Pickles, it’s me. You’re okay just having a bad dream is all,” Tony said withdrawing his hand._

_Pickles eyed him suspiciously._

_Tony put his hands up in view to show the redhead he wasn’t threatening him. “My hands are here, I am not going to touch you unless you want me too,” he confirmed. He waved them comically doing his best jazz hands impression causing Pickles narrowed his eyes even more._

_“Just get it over with,” Pickles mumbled. His body went slack, his expression went from defensive to submissive. If he allowed Tony to touch him, to get it all over with he could go back to sleep._

_“Rory, I am not going to touch you without your permission. We’ve been over this a few times remember? Plus, you’re to young for me which means that it is illegal for me to even think about touching you sexually. Do you understand?” Tony spoke clearly. They repeated this same cycle daily sometimes even multiple times during the day if he happened to move to fast from the kitchen to the living room._

_Pickles dropped his gaze to stare down at his hands. They suddenly became interesting; his nail polish had chipped which meant he really could use another coat to freshen them up._

_Tony turned away, leaning over to pick up the copy of The Dead Zone and placed it near the teenager. “Do you want to talk about your dream? I am a good listener,” Tony offered._

_“Yeh know what is wrong with me,” Pickles stated. He sensed everything he did Tony analysed him. The ex-social work student studied him for all the hallmark signs of abuse. He didn’t need to tell Tony what he already knew._

_“Doesn’t change the fact that I care. You’ve lived with me for three months. I can see you want to trust me but you’re not ready because in the past the ones who you should’ve been able to trust let you down. The people you trusted hurt you by abusing you or standing by while the abuse happened. I also see you in the doorway of the living room wanting to sit with me whether its because you want company, or something is weighing down on you. I’m not going to dispose of you if you open up to me, it’s not my place to judge your past nor can I go back in time to repair the damage though if that were possible I’d do it. I didn’t bring you into my home for you to feel this need to repay me in sexual favors. I brought you into my home because you’re my friend, my lead singer and lead guitarist. Do you understand?”_

_Pickles peeked up through his long mane of red hair to see Tony’s sad face staring back at him. His lip trembled as a fresh set of tears rolled down his cheeks. “My dad used to do terrible things to me,” he mumbled. His gaze dropped back to his fingernails, he decided to pick at the already chipped black nail polish to keep himself calm._

_“I know and I can’t even begin to imagine how that made you feel. You can come to me if you want to talk okay? I won’t judge you; I’ll hold your hand if you like, or we can talk and jam. I think tal-“_

_“Can yeh hold me while I cry it out?”_

_Tony nodded. He didn’t expect such a request especially with how standoffish Pickles was over being touched before. Instead of being overbearing with his words he opened his arms and nearly cried himself when Pickles hurried into his embrace, fitting himself perfectly on his lap as he drew his knees close to his chest. Tony wrapped his arms protectively around the teenager, resting his chin a top his head. The crying started as Pickles shook against his chest. Tony blinked back his own tears, fighting for some form of strength until he himself broke._

_The tears came easily as they both sat crying in the embrace._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We go in a bit deeper...   
> I didn't know if I would finish any writing this week but this just flowed onto the page!


End file.
